


third day of rain

by merelyans



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Thoughts, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyans/pseuds/merelyans
Summary: It’s the third day of rain in a row.And it’sloud.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	third day of rain

It’s the third day of rain in a row. 

And it’s _loud._

It’s loud and it’s rattling against the window so much that it hurts, the noise just going and going and going and god, it’s too loud. 

Tooru puts a pillow over his head, the sound muffled, but only just. It’s too early for this, but it’s not like he hasn’t been up all night, his eyes tired and body aching. The rain is too loud, like a curse that only gets worse and worse with time. There’s no lightning, no thunder, just a calm summer rain that keeps beating against the window.

And he hates it.

He checks his phone again, the time glaring back at him like it has something to prove. A notification pops up, and he perks up, a sole glimmer of hope quickly stamping itself out with the words “act now and get half off-”

He doesn’t even read the rest, and stares at the time so long that his phone shuts itself off, leaving him in the dark again. The phone is heavy in his hand, and his hip stings. It doesn’t sting as much as it did earlier, but they ache, and they sting, and they throb. And he’s hurt. He just doesn’t care. It’s three in the morning, he’s hurt, and he doesn’t care. 

And the rain is too loud.

The rain is always just too goddamn loud.

He twists so that he’s laying on his back, staring up as his eyes adjust to the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling and fan, the small creak of the blades whirring around, forming a small green halo of light above him. He lets his eyes unfocus, lets his vision fade back to something spotty and dark and fuzzy. He feels fuzzy. Feels like something else. Something that isn’t quite human.

He puts an arm over his eyes and tries to breathe, but the air comes shaky. His arm is hot. His head is hot. His body is sweaty under the covers but to turn the fan on its highest setting he has to get up, and he doesn’t trust his knee. He’s never trusted it on nights like these. It’ll just fail him if he tries to get up. Fail. Again. His knee will just fail again. But it’s hot. It’s hot, and the rain is loud, and his ugly side hurts.

But that can’t be helped. 

He checks his phone again. 

Nothing new, the time bright, so bright that all of the adjustment his eyes went through is suddenly trashed, everything going back to that black fuzz as the stars glow brighter and greener and fuzzier than before. Were they always this green? Must have been. No wonder Hajime hates them. They’re ugly. They’re ugly and Hajime hates them.

He sighs again, letting the phone flop down like a weight on his chest. He’s always the first to apologize. He _was_ the first to apologize. Apologized right after it happened earlier that day. But the apology is unread. It’s unread and he’s really fucked up this time. He’s the king of fucking up. He’s good for nothing except fucking everything up.

And Hajime won’t even text him back.

He deserves it. He can’t even remember what the argument was about but he’s always the one to start it. This time is no different. It’s three in the morning and the rain is loud and his hip stings and he’s so _tired_ but he can’t sleep. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. He wants to dream. Wants to have this all go away when he closes his eyes but he doesn’t want to sleep. 

He deserves it.

He does.

He always does.

He deserves the silence and the pain and the sleepless nights and the _pain_ and god he’s fucked it all up again. He doesn’t know why someone like Hajime would ever have stayed as long as he did. He deserves so much more than what Tooru has to give, so much more than plastic stars on the ceiling and too many rules about comfort levels, too many nights of anxious thoughts and general shit that comes with dating someone so wretched and terrible and selfish.

It was only a matter of time that Tooru drove him away. He never deserved Hajime in the first place. It’s early and he’s tired and everything hurts. Everything hurts and he can’t even do anything about it because he doesn’t even know how to feel. The tears are silent and hot and he’s hot and his hip stings like it used to and everything’s too bright.

And the rain is too loud.

But if he closes his eyes, he can pretend that the rain is Hajime throwing rocks at his window like he did all those years ago when they were younger and stupider and when Tooru’s thoughts were nothing more than passing.

But the rain is too loud, and Hajime isn’t here.

-

Tooru wakes up with a heavy arm around his chest. It’s warm, but it’s not hot, not the hot, sweaty sheets he always manages to get twisted into, not the hot, angry tears that spill over too easily. It’s warm. It’s warm and it’s safe and it’s _warm._

“Go back to sleep,” Hajime sleepily orders, the arm pulling him in closer. “You need to take care of yourself, idiot.”

Tooru stares ahead, his pillow still damp. His face is tight, groggy, and his phone is sitting on the bedside table, face down and charging. A hand gently grabs at his waist to pull him closer, and he hisses, the hand recoiling in pure hesitance. It goes back up to his chest and pulls him in from there. And it’s warm. His heart, beating against his back, steady and true, is warm.

He knows that Hajime knows it isn’t his fault. He knows that Hajime hates it. That it’s something disgusting and that no one could possibly see something so ugly and horrible and actually care, but he does. Hajime cares. Hajime knows that it isn’t his fault, that it’s not something he could have predicted. That healing isn’t a straight road, and that relapses are bound to happen.

And Hajime doesn’t care about something ugly, something Tooru thinks is selfish and no doubt beats himself up over. Hajime doesn’t care that Tooru has so many rules, or a tacky love of glow-in-the-dark stars, or nights when every doubt eats away at him. And Tooru knows this. He knows that Hajime doesn’t care.

Because all Hajime cares about Tooru.

He always has.

He always will.

And he’s here.

And after three straight days, the rain has finally stopped.


End file.
